Elizabeth
24 December
The atmosphere in the shopping mall was almost warm and cosy. Almost. Maybe because it was near Christmas. Or, it could be the Mariah Carey’s top hit “All I Want For Christmas Is You” that is making me slightly nostalgic.
It was the first song she hummed to.
Spell was my first and only daughter. After my husband and I broke apart (out of whatever reasons), Spell has not been taking our divorce with peace. But how could I blame her, it was impossible for a child at her age to truly understand what was going on. I did not take the divorce with peace myself too.
Today was the first time that bright smile returned to where it belongs. Her smile that is slightly higher on the right than the left. Her smile lit up my heart like the colourful lights that were hung around the Christmas tree that stood steadily in the middle of the room.
Spell has always loved to attend the make-a-wish event. A time for children to sit on the supposedly humorous and kind Santa Claus. I suddenly remembered my first time sitting on Santa’s lap, he stinks so badly. I hated it so much.
It was Spell’s turn. She walked towards Santa with her tiny, light steps, almost jumping. The conversation between Santa and the children is not supposed to be heard by anyone else, they are ‘secrets’. It took almost longer than 15 minutes for Spell to finish the conversation. Tapping my high heels, I began to grow impatient.
“Mummy!” It sounded like a cry, no, a scream. A pain-filled scream. I knew immediately that it was Spell.
She ran towards me while crying hysterically. She hugged me so tightly that I could barely breath. Her breath was short and staggered.
What happened?
“He touched…touched me!”
“He touched you? Where?” It came out almost like a shout, filled with sheer anger.
“He went under my skirt…and…and…”Each word wrapped with fear and helplessness.
“You bastard-how dare you touch my daughter?”
I walked towards that disgusting, ill-minded man with hastened steps and gave him a slap across the face.
“Someone call the police! My daughter is molested!” My stare bored into that man’s eyes.
I would never forgive him.
YOU ARE READING
A Christmas Wish
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